


You know I've fallen

by purgatorian



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, M/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 23:43:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/627840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purgatorian/pseuds/purgatorian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is a prince and Harry is his butler and his father is a king who won’t accept the shame brought on his family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You know I've fallen

**Author's Note:**

> This is short and sad and it's originally an assignment I did for my Norwegian class. It's non-betaed and I've also posted it on my tumblr: toylestummy. Happy reading.

As Louis gazed out the window there was nothing but the grey brick walls of London staring back at him. Droplets of rain drizzled down the all too thin glass, freezing air seeping through cracks; spreading goose bumps along the skin of his arms and legs and he wished for a sweater, wished that he had brought one with him on his angry rampage up the stairs.

His father’s words flooded his mind yet again and he huffed out a laugh, couldn’t, wouldn’t think of it right now and he began to restlessly walk in circles.

Past the dresser, turned by the desk, over the carpet, past the dresser again; all in hope that it would somehow make his mind clear, make the endless stream of hateful words disappear.

He couldn’t, he _wouldn’t_ hear it.

He let another voice fill his ears instead.

The soothing melody of a husky laugh, callous hands in his and the stubble against his cheek as he’d sweep Louis off his feet with mere words, simple touches and the smile he practically lived for and spent his days imagining in daydreams that never seemed to have an end.

He had tangled his hands around Louis’ neck that day.

He had pulled him close, whispered golden words that would never, ever fade and for once Louis felt okay, like if what they were doing weren’t frowned upon, weren’t seen as something immoral, something ugly, something to hide but rather something they could be proud of, flaunt and be honest about.

He was tall, always had been, much taller than Louis and even if he could only reach up to him if he was on his tip toes he would bend down, always make sure that if Louis wanted to, he could. And he did.

There was a sudden knock on his door, hard and sharp and he froze in his tracks.

“Yes?” The door creaked as it opened and the source of the startling sound appeared, making Louis grit his teeth, fists clenching harshly by his sides and all he wanted to do was to punch something, punch the window for all he cared and send the tiny shards hurdling down on the hard concrete below and perhaps he’d join them on their way. 

“How dare you do this to your family, son.”

His words were more of a whisper than anything, each letter carefully laced in harsh disappointment, maybe hatred, definitely disgust and Louis had to pry his gaze away from his father’s dead eyes to manage a breath. As his father received little to no response for his words he sucked in a breath, knuckles growing white but his face kept still. The only trace of emotion was the vein in his temple, big, beaming and seemingly ready to burst with anger, eyes locked on Louis with no sign of retreat.

And he closed his eyes, imagined the meadows he’d seen in August underneath his feet, the summer sun heating his cheeks and his arms on his waist and it all felt better then, fingers laced together, jumpy curls dancing in the wind and Louis had laughed at him, told him that he really should consider to shorten them.

“He’s a servant. _Our_ servant.” His eyes flickered open, reality hitting him straight in the gut and he swallowed. “He’s not-“His words were lost in the sound of his father slamming the door shut behind him, taking one, two steps further into the room. “He’s a man,” he finished for him, almost shouting at this point and Louis felt so small underneath his scrutinizing gaze, his hateful tirade and the disappointment he knew he felt because his only son, the heir to the throne was a sinner, he was a filthy traitor and he loved a man. A man named Harry.

 _Harry_ , the butler with the green eyes and the jumpy curls and the everlasting smile that Louis spent his days imagining in daydreams that never seemed to have an end.

“He is worth nothing more than the filth underneath our shoes, Louis. He’s the scum of the society and he’s an animal. Can’t you see it? Can’t you see how wrong this is?”

A vase smashed to the ground as his father slammed it with his hand, a million pointy shards dancing over the floorboards, circling Louis’ feet and if it weren’t for everything it would’ve been beautiful, a tale of life- easy to lose, easy to break and nothing but a mess in the end.

As Louis’ silent treatment continued his father stopped in his tracks, features easing into a calm state and nothing had ever terrified him more.

“You won’t have to worry about him anymore. He’s been taking care of.”

And images swam across his mind, images of a broken mess, a red heat and green eyes that would never shine, a dimply smile that would never greet him again and his father chose this moment to leave the room, with only a cold sting of a sentence left behind in his trail.

_“You've disappointed me.”_

His mind was empty and his heart all the same as he gazed out the window, grey brick walls staring back at him. He knew what was out there and he knew what wasn’t anymore. The glass broke easier than he thought it would, a warm, wet heat spreading across his knuckles as shards found their way through his skin and this time he joined the beautiful mess of pieces on their way down, welcoming the concrete as a gateway to his Harry.


End file.
